


the golden boy's golden girl

by pleaseletmetouchyourbutt



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Family Issues, might be triggering for ppl with abusive mothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleaseletmetouchyourbutt/pseuds/pleaseletmetouchyourbutt
Summary: Cullen Rutherford is too old and scarred for Mari Trevelyan, but she pulls him in and makes him hers.





	1. dreaming of you

When Mari Trevelyan woke in shackles, she expected to help seal the tear in the sky and use her limited skills to fight demons. She did not expect Commander Cullen Rutherford. She was fair with a bow and strong enough, full of noble manners and nobler lineage, but Cullen surprised her.

He was golden and broad and looked as if he were sculpted by the Maker himself. Beyond even that the man was kind and smart, with a smile that did something to her heart. Her brain could deal with darkspawn, but a handsome man made it shut down, apparently. She had seen plenty of handsome men before, her mother was even trying to get her to marry one, but this ex-Templar was different.

Mari visited him every day, under the guise of asking if he had anything to report. She knew it must have been annoying, but he never seemed to mind, filling her in on anything she might find important. She learned far more about troop movements and gathering resources than she ever thought she would, being the youngest daughter of a noble family, but simply listening to him talk was mesmerizing.

They returned from the Storm Coast with Iron Bull and his Chargers in tow, and the first thing she did was go to Cullen’s tent. It was late evening, all the soldiers had stopped training and were lounging around in the snow, eating and talking. They all nodded respectfully to her as she passed.

The flap to Cullen’s tent was pulled open and he sat at a small desk inside, bent over a collection of papers.

“Commander?” Mari stood hesitantly in the mouth of the tent.

He looked up, hair a rumpled mess and eyes droopy and tired, “Herald. How was the coast?”

“Wet and cold,” She said, stepping in to lean against the metal pole in the middle of the tent.

“Leliana tells me you brought back some new agents,” He said, leaning back in his chair. The long line of his body stretched away from the desk, and her eyes tried to bore their way through his fur mantle and shining breastplate.

“Yes,” Mari filled him in on the Chargers without really focusing on her words, eyes drawn inexplicably to the way his fingers tapped on the desk.

Well, it wasn’t inexplicable. They were thick and long and strong and the only thing she could think when she saw them was how they would feel in her hair or between her legs. It made everyday life as the Inquisition’s Herald rather difficult. He did it when he was concentrating, she had noticed. He would tap on the war table, twisting the small markers in his hands as he listened to someone speak.

He said something to her, relatively positive and smart she assumed, but she was too preoccupied with staring at his fingers.

“Herald?” He asked, fingers stilling on the desk.

Her cheeks flamed red suddenly, and her eyes snapped up to his face, twisted in concern.

“Sorry, Commander,” She said, “I suppose I am feeling the travel. I should get some rest.”

She turned on her heel, fleeing from the scene and into her own cabin. She locked the door frantically behind her, eager to stretch out on her bed and bury her fingers between her legs, pretending they were his.

It was completely inappropriate, she knew. Cullen Rutherford was the Commander of the Inquisition, a man that she should respect and admire but certainly not a man that she should want to lie with. But Maker she wanted to lay with him. She wanted to ride him wildly and let him enter her from behind. She even longed to feel the heaviness of his cock in her mouth.

Maker, if her mother knew what she was thinking she would surely never be allowed to leave home alone ever again. Both Mari and her older brother were raised as staunch Andrastians and even though Mari did not ascribe to every single idea the Chantry preached, she felt a certain amount of shame at the feelings she had for him.

There was certainly nothing she could do about it now, however, with the sun setting in the sky. Surely there was nothing she would ever be able to do about it. He was considerably older than her, perhaps nearly a decade, clearly not interested in her romantically and her parents would certainly not approve. Not to mention the man that her mother intended for her to marry to keep up the Trevelyan image.

She tossed and turned on her bed for what felt like hours, but finally she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Mari had not dreamed since falling out of the Breach. She knew she could speak to Solas about issues with dreams, but she was embarrassed to speak to him about anything, afraid of seeming stupid compared his obvious intellect.

In the end, she slept soundly, nothing waking her before morning.


	2. inner conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She crossed the snow towards him, hips swaying, and he had to use all his Templar training to raise his eyes to her face instead."

Cullen Rutherford was in love with the blasted Herald of Andraste. Maker’s balls he was an idiot. She was far too young, barely twenty and bright-eyed and fresh and he was washed up and scarred and already thirty-one. He had no right to want to hold her against his chest, to kiss her full mouth until it was red and bruised. He wanted to both hold her beneath him, bare and squirming, and also stand before her, open and willing to do whatever she asked of him.

Cullen passed it off as loyalty, as respecting the Herald and the tentative authority she wielded in the Inquisition. He knew, in his heart and his head, that it was far more than that but Cassandra and Josephine did not need to know that. Leliana, he was sure, already knew. She said nothing about it, though, and Cullen silently thanked her for it every time she caught him staring for just slightly too long at Mari Trevelyan.

But he wanted her. The thought of her made him impossibly hard and there was nothing he thought about more than pressing her against a wall, supporting her on his arms, and fucking her senseless. That and holding her tightly against him, pressing his lips against her warm forehead.

He gritted his teeth and sat up out of bed to dress for the day. He stepped out of his tent, found bleary eyed soldiers standing and talking in snow, yawning and stretching in the morning sun. Even with the sun, bright and heavy at the horizon, it was frigid. He had grown up further south in Ferelden, and had always hated how frigid the Frostbacks could get.

He barked out a few orders, rubbing at the back of his neck, and the troops sprang into action, arming up and beginning to spar.

Cullen looked across towards the smith, saw the colossal Iron Bull standing in front of his tent. His second-in-command stood beside him, and Cullen felt a pang of jealousy inside his chest. It surprised him for a moment, before he remembered that Bull and his Chargers rode back with the Herald from the Storm Coast. A long journey where they would have had all the time in the world to talk. Cullen would kill for that chance.

The main gates to Haven burst open, taking his attention away from Bull and Krem. Mari trotted down the steps, golden hair braided tightly and hanging over her shoulder. Her eyes were electric green, piercing and strong. She was rather short and delightfully curvy.

She crossed the snow towards him, hips swaying, and he had to use all his Templar training to raise his eyes to her face instead.

“Good morning,” She greeted, a bright smile plastered on her face, “Did you sleep well, Commander?”

No, he thought, thinking of the long session he had with his own hand. “Yes, thank you.”

“Did you have any plans today?” She asked, hands tucked behind her back.

She normally asked him about troop movements and harvesting plans, but she had never phrased it like that.

“Well,” He said, straightening, “I have two groups of soldiers going – ”

“No,” She cut him off, stepping closer, “Not your men, you. Do you have any specific plans for today?”

“I suppose not,” He said slowly, quashing the images his brain conjured up of a day spent in her bed, “Why do you ask?”

“Scout Harding has fallen ill,” She said, looking far too happy for rather upsetting news, “And we need to travel with Master Dennet’s horses from Redcliffe. Cassandra suggested that since you have the best working knowledge of Ferelden that you accompany us.”

Cullen’s heart soared, but he reigned it in, “What about the training?”

“Cassandra has volunteered to stay back and oversee it,” She said, “If you’re willing.”

“Yes,” He said, far too quickly, “Yes, of course.”

He gathered his things and thought about the blissful few days he would have away from his administrative duties. He had not truly fought since the Breach first appeared in the sky, and he was eager to prove himself. Perhaps part of it was a desire to impress Mari, but he managed to convince himself it wasn’t.

Mari, Solas, and Sera waited for him at the gates. He didn’t mind Sera, mischievous as she was, but he had an inkling that Solas thought him dimwitted. Mari looked incredible, as odd as that sounded. Her armour was sturdy and well built, dark leather and deep blue fabric woven together to keep her safe.

They left together, and Cullen found himself leading the way at Mari’s side. She was beautiful, her bow strapped across her back and a look of determination on her face.

They set up camp on the edge of Dennet’s farm just before nightfall. Cullen accompanied Mari to speak with the old farmer and plan their route for the next day, standing staunch and quiet beside her. She had the authority and the capability to lead the discussion, and he played the role of a good soldier, only contributing when she asked for his input. He was content to simply watch her speak. She was a true force of nature.

She did not give herself nearly enough credit, he thought. She dismissed herself as nothing more than a noble-born girl that fell into a position of divinity but he saw her as capable and smart, kind and strong.

Once everything was settled for the next day they returned to camp, where Sera was sitting at a campfire, dozing off against her own hand. Solas was already in his tent, a soft light glowing from between the tent flaps.

“Thank you for coming, Cullen,” Mari said as they settled across the fire from Sera.

“Of course,” He absently tugged off his fur mantle, letting it settle on the ground behind him. It was a mild night, cooling them from a rather sweltering afternoon.

Mari stared at him for a moment, eyes tracking his hands as they tugged at his tunic, damp with sweat and sticking to his chest.

“Your input is truly invaluable,” She glanced away, and Cullen was sure the colour on her cheeks was from fatigue and nothing else. If they did happen to be coloured from interest or arousal, how could he show her he felt the same?

He shook his head, shaking himself out of that particular fantasy. Countless depraved ideas had risen to the surface – crowding her up against the requisition table, biting a line of red marks down the column of her throat and slotting his thigh between hers, giving her something grind against as he –

“I don’t mind,” He said, trying to tear his eyes away from the side of her face and failing miserably.

After a moment she looked back, a small smile on her lips, “You look good out here.” Cullen’s heart picked up its pace, and she looked shocked for a moment, “I meant – well – I just meant that you look more comfortable in the field than behind a desk.”

He laughed, a deep noise rumbling out of his chest, “I suppose I feel more comfortable. I was just a soldier for so long that it feels foreign to be doing administrative duties.”

“That makes sense,” She said, “I’m afraid I look quite out of place in situations like this. I was raised in an estate and only really shot my bow on training grounds.”

“You wouldn’t know it,” He said quickly, without really thinking about it, “You’re an incredible shot, and the authority with which you talk to people is astounding.”

Mari’s cheeks coloured again, a delicious pink colour that extended down her neck and into the top of her jacket. Cullen wanted to follow the colour with his hands and mouth, see how far down the pink went, and maybe put his mouth on another, surely pinker, part of her body.

“Thank you,” She said, sighing, “If only my mother saw that as a good thing.”

“She doesn’t?”

Mari shook her head, wrapping both arms around her middle, “She likes it when I play the part of the perfect lady. If it weren’t for the positive attention the Trevelyans are getting with me as Herald, she would have demanded I return home, Breach or no Breach.”

“Even with the end of the world at stake?” Cullen asked, surprised at the dry, genuine tone in her voice.

“Even so,” Mari sighed, running her hands over the stray hairs escaping near her temple, “I was supposed to get married in a few months.”

Cullen’s heart sank, and he felt as if all the air in the world had disappeared, “Married?”

She nodded, resting her chin in her palms, “Yes. Some son of some other rich family. I think I met him when I was twelve, but I barely even remember what he looks like.”

“Many girls look forward to their weddings,” He swallowed thickly, the disdain in her voice calming him.

She snorted, turning her head to look at him, “Some do, I’m sure. But I wouldn’t be marrying for love, only for money and opportunity. I was ready to do it, and then the conclave happened.”

“Now you’re not so willing?”

“I’m not willing at all,” She glanced up, green eyes locking with his, “Lots of things have changed my mind.”

“Like what?” He asked, leaning closer despite the protest in his mind. He was lead entirely by the frantic beating of his heart now, his age and the Inquisition be damned.

Across the fire, Sera snorted awake and they quickly leaned away from each other. She got up, yawning and saying something about going to bed, before disappearing into her tent.

“We should get some sleep,” Mari said, standing, “Thanks for talking with me.”

“Anytime,” He said, watching as she slipped into her tent. A scout took Sera’s spot, nodding to him, and Cullen retired to bed as well.

His bedroll felt far more comfortable than he’d thought it would, and he fell asleep quickly. He dreamt of holding Mari under his chin, of burying his face between her thighs until she screamed his name, and clutching her hair while he fucked her mouth. He was ashamed of himself, furious that he let such selfish and depraved thoughts taint his mind, but he couldn’t stop them.


	3. cullenlingus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeah, you read that right

Morning broke silently, and Mari was awoken by Sera shouting her name outside. She quickly got up and dressed, tying her hair into a messy knot on top of her head, tendrils slipping out down her neck and around her face. Sera and Solas stood together across the camp, arguing about something Mari couldn’t hear.

Cullen was collecting his mantle, dusting the dirt off from where he left it by the fire. His tunic was a creamy white, and the way the light shone on it made it nearly translucent. She tried not to stare as a scout helped him into his breastplate, but she failed miserably. His arms flexed and relaxed, the hem of his shirt lifting from his trousers as he adjusted the plate and mail around him.

Mari could feel wetness slicking out between her legs, and dragged her eyes away, trying desperately to focus on the task ahead of them. Transporting Master Dennet’s best mounts all the way to Haven would be a tough job, but a worthwhile one.

It took until midday to get everything arranged and a route picked out, but when they set off they made good time. Mari was proud of herself, both for arranging the transport and for being able to mostly keep her eyes off of Cullen as he rode at the back of the group, keeping his eyes out for threats. Mostly.

Back at Haven, Mari took her leave from the horses and her companions, secluding herself into her cabin and into her bed. She hadn’t missed the mattress, but she had missed orgasms. She was still a virgin, but had discovered the pleasure of her own hand years ago.

Her fingers found her clit, and she was already incredibly wet. Hours of riding a horse, staring at Cullen with his broad shoulders and stupid hair, had made her sensitive and swollen. Her hips canted up into her hand, and she let them, not trying to be quiet or take her time. What she needed was release and she needed it now.

She didn’t hear the knocks on the door. She also didn’t hear the door open and then shut again. She didn’t really hear anything other than the rushing of blood in her ears, was barely aware of anything other than her impending release.

Then there was a strong hand around her wrist and that she noticed. Her eyes flew open and she looked down, saw Cullen standing at the edge of her bed. His mouth hung slightly open, eyes impossibly dark as he stared down at her, without pants and with slick down her inner thighs.

“Um,” She said, embarrassed at how breathless she sounded. She could have told him to stop, kicked him away or scrambled up the bed. But, she didn't. She met his eyes for one tense moment before nodding, just slightly.

He didn’t say anything, just moved to kneel on the bed between her spread legs. He bent down, face lowering down towards her. Her heart thundered in her chest, but she said nothing. She let her head fall back, trusting him. She half-regretted it a few seconds afterwards. He put both of her legs over his shoulders, cushioned against the fur of his mantle, and pressed his tongue against her clit.

Mari cried out, hands flying down to clutch at his hair, and he groaned against her. She could barely think, brain not keeping up with where his tongue was going, wrapped up in pleasure. He grazed his teeth across her clit and she came undone, screaming his name. She was sure she nearly pulled out fistfuls of his hair.

After a moment her body relaxed and her hands and legs fell away, thudding against the bed. She looked down and Cullen sat up, wiping at his mouth. Her cheeks flamed red, but so did his.

“I – I – I am so sorry,” He stammered, “I don’t know what came over me – ”

Mari surged up, every conflicting emotion bubbling up inside her chest. She buried her hands in the fur of his cloak and pulled him down, frantically pressing her mouth to his. She tasted herself on his lips, and she chased the flavour. He pushed her down beneath him, never stopping the kiss, and bracketed her head with his forearms.

After a moment he pulled away, staring down at her with wide eyes, “You’re not upset with me?”

“Well,” She said, “You could have asked, or just told me how you felt.” He looked away, bashful, “But, no. If I had told you to stop, would you have?”

"Maker's breath, _of course_ ," He sat up and away from her, resting on his knees, “I think you’re wonderful, Mari. I think you’re beautiful and smart and capable and …” He trailed off, “That is how I feel.”

She could feel a deep blush rising up her face, shock bouncing around inside her chest. She had not once thought it possible. It was obvious now that he was attracted to her, and she would have taken that over nothing at all, but his eyes were soft, his mouth curved into a small smile. He was being genuine.

He seemed to take her silence the wrong way, because he suddenly stood, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I am behaving incredibly inappropriately,” He said, not looking at her, “I apologize.”

He went to leave, and something in her snapped. She leapt off the bed, forgetting entirely that she was not wearing pants, and grabbed one gloved hand in hers.

“Don’t apologize,” She said, mind coming up blank for something more articulate or profound.

He turned back, eyes wide, “You – I – Mari, you have to understand that I’m in love with you.”

“Why do you say it like that?” She asked, “Like it’s a mistake, or a death sentence?” She paused, “Like it’s unreciprocated?”

“You are the Herald of Andraste,” He said, “You are young and once this is over you will have an entire, unmarred life in front of you.”

“If I even get out of this alive,” She said, heart thundering in her chest, “You are an incredible man, Cullen. I have spent my entire life following orders and being what other people want me to be. Can’t I make one decision for myself?”

Something in his eyes changed, and his shoulders dropped from their tense position around his ears. He turned fully to face her now, pulling his hand from her grip. He cupped her face in his hands and leaned down to kiss her gently on the mouth. She sighed, hands coming up to rest against his chest.

After a blissful moment, he pulled away, “I am yours, if you’ll have me.”

The smile broke onto her face of its own accord, and she surged up on her toes to kiss him again, quickly.

“We should attempt to be discreet, shouldn’t we?” She said, “I do not want to put any of our hard work at risk.”

He nodded, “Yes.”

He leaned down again, stealing one more kiss as if he couldn’t stop himself now that he had permission.

“Goodnight, Mari.”

He left her standing there, without pants in the middle of her cabin, and closed the door behind him. If her mother found out about this, she would surely kill her before any demon could.


	4. unwelcome visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Trevelyan is a BITCH

Cullen laid back on his cot, staring blankly at the roof of his tent. He was a terrible, useless excuse of a man and he deserved whatever punishment the Maker would surely rain down upon him. He had been helpless to refuse her, with those big eyes and that boundless determination. He had been even more helpless to keep his hands, and his mouth, to himself.

When he opened the door and saw her lying there, fingers between her legs, he practically lost control of his body. It would not have been worth it if she had been unwilling, if she had kicked him away and shouted at him, but she had been willing. The taste of her, the smell, the sounds she made as she came undone beneath his tongue, grabbing fistfuls of his hair in her hands.

It truly felt like the most natural thing in the world – pledging himself to her. She already had his loyalty on the battlefield, but now she held his heart in the palm of her hand. She was kind and resourceful and incredible and he trusted her implicitly. He had trusted others before, and they had all crushed his heart in their palms. But for some reason, Mari Trevelyan was different.

There was, of course, the issue of her betrothal. The fact that she was engaged to a man. Noble engagements were, as he understood, very hard to get out of. But in Haven, surrounded by talk of rifts and the glowing Breach in the sky, it seemed like the least of their worries.

She may not love him, not in the way he loved her, but she wanted him, cared for him, and he was pathetic enough to accept that as enough.

He slept more peacefully than he had in months, since this whole debacle started, and his dreams were not nightmares. They were golden and filled with her, warm and bright in his arms.

Cullen woke just after dawn, and dressed quickly before stepping out of his tent and directly into Mari. She yelped and stumbled back, bouncing off his chest.

He reached for her automatically, catching her waist in one hand and her wrist in the other, righting her before she could tumble into the snow.

She turned bright red, “Sorry!”

He held onto her for a moment too long, and became suddenly all too aware of his troops staring at them.

He dropped his hands, face turning red, “Uh, good morning.”

She smiled, taking a small step away from him – much too far for his liking.

“Good morning,” She said, “Cassandra has asked that we meet her.”

“Of course,” He said, glancing over her shoulder to glare at the scouts until they jumped into action.

He walked beside her, a respectful distance away, but once they were out of view she reached one gloved hand across the distance and grabbed his fingers. She squeezed once before letting go and stuffing her hands into her pockets.

Maker’s breath she was going to be the death of him.

He wasn’t paying enough attention, apparently, because instead of heading into the Chantry, Mari lead the way into her cabin. She shut the door behind him and he turned, head tilted in question.

“Cassandra is in Josephine’s office with Leliana, discussing our next excursion,” Mari said, smiling.

“Then why – ?” He stopped, laughing, “I didn’t know you were so cheeky.”

She snorted, stepping up into his space, “Yes, you did.”

She rose up onto her toes and began a line of kisses on his jaw. She grazed her teeth across his skin, and the noise that came out of him sounded positively feral. His hands came to her full hips, fingers digging into her. He walked them until her back hit the wall, curving down over her to claim her mouth.

She whimpered, and the bulge in his pants grew impossibly harder. Her hands grasped at his mantle, fingers clutching the fur as her body went loose for him.

There was a sharp knock on the cabin door, and they leapt apart.

“Sit down,” She breathed, ushering him towards her desk. A pile of papers covered in maps and notes were spread out across the surface, and he pretended to be invested in them as she went to answer the door.

He didn’t look, focusing idly on a map of the Fallow Mire, but he listened to her speak.

“Josephine!” Mari chirped, voice remarkably steady, “Have you finalized the plans for our trip?”

“Not quite,” Their usually composed advisor sounded shaken, and Cullen stood from the desk.

“What’s wrong?” He stepped into view of the doorway and Josephine looked up, confused.

“The Commander and I were comparing notes of the Fallow Mire,” Mari explained, reaching for Josephine’s hands, clasped tightly in front of her.

“You have a visitor, Mari.” Josephine never used anything but Mari’s title, Cullen knew.

“A visitor?” Mari’s shoulders tightened, and Cullen wanted to smooth his hand down her back to calm her.

“Your mother,” Josephine said, mouth a thin line, “And a young man named Aldo De Fialis.”


	5. bye felicia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mari takes no shit - french translation in the notes at the bottom.
> 
> btw if my french seems weird it's bc i'm canadian so my french is Quebecois. also i know that ostwick is in the free marches but in my headcanon my trevelyan's mother was born in Orlais and taught her kids how to speak orlesian.

Mari’s heart sunk.

“Maker’s bloody balls,” She swore, pressing her hands to her face, “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I sincerely wish I were,” Josephine said, “We cannot proceed with any of our plans until this situation is dealt with.”

“What do they want?” Mari asked, groaning.

“They wish for you to return home.”

“What?” Cullen snapped, stepping up beside her, “Have they no concept of what is happening in the bloody sky?”

“Lady Trevelyan, unfortunately, believes that there are others who can deal with the issue,” Josephine explained, “I am well-versed in dealing with nobles, Herald, but your mother is very trying.”

Mari sighed, “Yes, that sounds like her.” She took a deep breath, smoothing down her tunic in an attempt to look noble enough for her mother, “Let’s go.”

Cullen accompanied them, walking far closer to her than he normally would have. He leant down towards her, “Who the hell is this De Fialis?”

“My fiancé,” Mari said, throat tightening.

He straightened up, and she chanced a glance at him. His jaw worked as he clenched his teeth together, and his hands were balled up into tight fists. She wanted to calm him, loop her arm through his and press a kiss to his shoulder. But, that was impossible.

She could hear the yelling the second they entered the Chantry, pouring out of Josephine’s open office door.

“This is far bigger than reputation!” Cassandra’s voice boomed and echoed around the Chantry’s halls.

“Clearly you know nothing about reputation!” Her mother’s voice was shrill and sharp, grinding down Mari’s spine, “This is about my love for my daughter!”

They rounded the corner and into the office. Her mother and Cassandra stood very close to one another, Cassandra looking even more intimidating than normal. Aldo stood a few paces behind her mother, arms crossed across his chest. He was definitely a handsome man, but in a very different way than Cullen was. He was impeccably groomed with smooth dark hair and zero facial hair. His eyes were a dark blue, and they snapped to her face as soon as she entered the room.

She was struck by how slender he was, shorter than Cullen and laughably less broad, as he strode towards her.

“Ma chérie,” He purred, and her skin crawled. Her hands came up automatically, an attempt to keep him a decent distance away from her.

Cullen, standing behind her, stepped closer. She could feel his breastplate against her back as he leaned forward and put one hand out. His palm connected audibly with Aldo’s chest, keeping the man a safe distance from Mari’s tense body.

Leliana, leaning against Josephine’s desk, muffled a snort.

“How dare you?” Aldo said, his Orlesian accent thick.

“Que fais-tu ici?” Mari asked, “Je ne pars pas.”

Aldo stepped back, and Cullen dropped his arm.

“Yes, you are,” Her mother hissed, crossing the room to grab her arm in a vice-like grip, “We sent you to the conclave to make a good impression for the Trevelyans, not get involved in a heretical movement!”

“Laisse-moi!” Mari hissed, yanking her arm out of her mother’s grip. Her mother looked shocked, and Mari realized that in her time with the Inquisition she had grown far stronger than when her mother last saw her.

“Look at you,” Her mother said, “You look ridiculous.” She pulled at Mari’s leather tunic, “You look like a soldier, pas une dame!”

“I am,” Mari said, “As I’m trying to save the world, demons try to kill me. If I dressed like a lady je serais morte.”

“It is time for you to stop playing pretend,” Aldo said, stepping up behind her mother, “Il est enfin temps pour nous de nous marier.”

“Je préférerais mourir plutôt que de t'épouser,” Mari hissed.

“Laissez-nous tous nous calmer,” Josephine said smoothly, stepping in between them, “Lady Trevelyan, votre fille is the only hope Thedas has. She is the only one capable of closing the rifts in the sky.”

“I do not care,” Her mother snapped, “I will not sacrifice the Trevelyan line for anything.”

“Without Mari there won’t be any lines, anywhere,” Cullen said. He stepped out from behind her, shielding her partially with his broad shoulders, “I have no patience for blasted Orlesian politics. Mari will be staying here whether you like it or not.”

“Why do we not ask Mari what she would like?” Aldo said, smirking, “Mari, mon amour, would you rather stay in this endroit dégoûtant, as cold and ramshackle as it is, or would you like to come home and be comfortable again?”

Mari rolled her eyes, stepping out from behind Cullen, “Tu es incroyable. I wish to stay in Haven.”

“C’est ridicule!” Her mother shrieked, “Beyond even the accommodations, you are surrounded by brutes! Comme lui!” She gestured at Cullen, and Mari’s fists clenched of their own accord, “Votre commandant n'est qu'un imbécile commun, il vous regarde comme s'il valait quelque chose.”

Mari moved without thinking, her gloved palm connecting with her mother’s cheek with a sharp thwack.

“Sortez.” Mari growled, “Je suis Trevelyan de nom seulement. A partir de maintenant, vous n'avez pas de fille.”

Heavy silence settled over the room, and Mari turned to the guards standing outside the door.

“Get rid of them. They are not welcome in Haven.”

“Yes, Your Worship.”

The guards escorted her mother and Aldo to the gates of Haven, her mother yelling and cursing all the way. Mari could hear her even after the heavy Chantry doors slammed shut behind them.

“Putain d’enfer,” She swore.

After a moment of silence, Leliana cleared her throat.

“Well, that solves one problem.”

“Temporarily,” Josephine said, rubbing at her temples, “I highly doubt Lady Trevelyan will take Mari’s rebuff well. Neither with the De Fialis family.”

“I’m sorry,” Mari said, covering her face with her palms, “I just could not stand her talking about you all like that.”

“About Cullen, you mean,” Cassandra said, and Mari looked up, seeing unrestrained glee on the Seeker’s face.

Cullen cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair, “That is beside the point.”

“Did you even understand what she said?” Leliana asked, “It was quite mean.”

“This is not about me,” He said, turning to face Mari, “Are you alright?”

She nodded, swallowing thickly, “Yes.”

“Liar,” He said.

“I just hope she doesn’t take any anger out on Hal,” She said, thinking of her older brother, freshly married himself.

“I am sure he will be fine,” Cullen assured her.

“Yes,” She said softly, “Anyways, we have more important things to worry about.”

After a few tense moments, they settled into planning their trip to the Fallow Mire. After their rescue mission, they realized there were plentiful resources and artefacts throughout the Mire, well worth scouting out.

They spent most of the day in the war room, and it was just before sunset when Mari left the Chantry again. She was the last one to leave, shooing off her advisors and insisting she needed time to think alone. When she reached her cabin, Cullen was inside, stripped down to his tunic and trousers and reclining on her bed, reading a book.

“Oh,” She said, surprised, “Hi.”

“Come here,” He said, setting his book to the side.

Her body took her without her brain having a say. She stripped down to her thin undershirt and smallclothes, clambering eagerly into his open arms. He cradled her against his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin.

“Tell me what she said.”

Mari sighed through her nose, “She said you were a simple fool that looked at me like you were worth something.”

He chuckled, a warm sound that vibrated his chest underneath her ear, “I have been called far worse things.”

She sat up, legs still entwined with his, “That doesn’t make it okay!”

He shrugged, “She isn’t wrong. You make me feel as if I am worth far more than I am.”

Mari’s heart melted, turning her entire body into goo, “I do?”

“Yes,” He said, “Logically I know that I’m an old, scarred man and you are vibrant and perfect and young, but you make me feel like I am whole again.”

Mari tucked herself back underneath his chin, and the two of them fell asleep like that, clutching each other and entwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma chérie - my dear  
> Que fais-tu ici? - What are you doing here?  
> Je ne pars pas - I am not leaving  
> Laisse-moi! - Let go of me!  
> pas une dame - not a lady  
> je serais morte - I would be dead  
> Il est enfin temps pour nous de nous marier - It is finally time for us to marry  
> mon amour - my love  
> endroit dégoûtant - disgusting place  
> Tu es incroyable - you are unbelievable  
> C’est ridicule - that is ridiculous  
> Comme lui - like him  
> Votre commandant n'est qu'un imbécile commun, il vous regarde comme s'il valait quelque chose - your commander is nothing but a common fool that looks at you like he's worth something.  
> Sortez - leave  
> Je suis Trevelyan de nom seulement. A partir de maintenant, vous n'avez pas de fille - I am a Trevelyan in name only. From here on out you have no daughter.  
> Putain d’enfer - Fucking hell


End file.
